


Rotten apple

by Red_Reaper



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Reaper/pseuds/Red_Reaper
Summary: Pay attention to the tags before read, if you don't like this kind of stories.Secrets aren't just for humans. Either the pleasure.Reapers can keep secrets and feel pleasure too.Old habits die hard, even after death.





	Rotten apple

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language, but felt like writting this. Please be patient with me and if you spot any mistake, let me know.
> 
> Practicing to get better.

Sometimes felt like if he were on a race against his own skin. A competition about how hard he could hit himself before his skin started to heal and looked like new again.

Every morning he stared at the cuts in his wrists and counted the seconds before they were gone. Seconds that slowly became minutes, minutes that with a bit of extra effort became hours.

He  vaguely could remember the painful sensation of being hit with a wooden ruler in both hands, in his past life as a human.

William couldn't tell if other reapers could experience feelings like that, but before he could even try to understand it, he was doing it again.

A part of him missing it greatly.

It started like a silly accident, Grell Sutcliff was involved, of course. The redhead reaper made him slam both palms against his wooden desk, so hard, that both felt numb for a minute or two.  T hat “accident" felt really familiar for him. Something done before.

And it slowly became an adiction.

_What a strangly pleasant feeling._

Perhaps he wanted to feel that kind of pain again, because every time he got hit, then he started to do the things right and walked in the right path. He felt so disoriented now that perhaps hitting and cutting himself would help to get him back into the right path.

It started with just an innocent scratch with his pen. A quick line, nothing too big.

His skin quickly fixed the problem, making him sigh. How...  _boring._

Scratches never gave him the same feeling. Everything could cause a scratch. That wasn't a symbol of being punished.

He needed something else. Something painfully enough that could make him feel closer to the right path again.

William was pretty sure that himself as a human, never understood which path was the right one or he wouldn't have killed himself, but he had another opportunity to do the things right.

Blood drops were fascinating. A tiny voice inside his head, kept repeating how smart Grell was for loving blood so much.

The strong smell, the brilliant red. A mesmerizing view, no doubt of it anymore. Slowly, William T. Spears became addicted to the blood like Grell Sutcliff.

But his own blood and nothing else. His own pain and nothing else. He was selfish, he didn't care any other pain. The feelings of anyone.

He never did, Grell always told him that.

Every hit made him smile. Looking at his own reflection in the mirror, William T Spears smiled at himself. Hits meant that he was loved by someone that cared just enough to stop him from making the same mistakes.

Every hit made him feel loved. Even if he wasn't exactly sure about what love was.

Grell said that love was painful. That there wasn't love without pain.

_And he was right._

Some days he wondered if he could take his eyes out and if his body would heal anyways. If he could cut his own tongue and expect it to grow back. Sometimes he wondered if he could die again and reborn.

Grell and him shared a secret passion in common. The passion for pain.

Deeper the cut, deeper the love.

William needed the punishment, he killed himself. The life as a reaper wasn't the right path and he knew it perfectly.

Each cut made him feel closer to the right path.

And he didn't want to stop feeling loved.


End file.
